Scandal
by shelivesfree
Summary: He looked away, unable to face her. Of course, he shouldn't feel this way. She was a married woman, and a Senator, and he was a Jedi Knight. They could never work. Majorly AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Scandal

 **Genre:** AU

 **Characters:** Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Ahsoka Tano

 **Rating:** M

 **Synopsis:** He looked away, unable to face her. Of course, he shouldn't feel this way. She was a married woman, and a Senator, and he was a Jedi Knight. They could never work. Majorly AU.

 **Author's Note:** A ROTS multi-chapter plot bunny I've been slowly working on. I'm intrigued to explore what would have happened if Anakin and Padme hadn't married at the end of AOTC, but rather, Padme married Bail Organa for public appearance and entered into an affair with Anakin during the Clone Wars. How would this have changed the ending? Intrigued? I hope so :) Please let me know what you think!

* * *

 **Republic Transport Depot, Coruscant**

 **20 BBY**

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck! _Yes_!" One would never have though such crude, vulgar language to come from the most esteemed and respected Galactic Senator, Padmé Amidala, but there, in the pilot's seat of the _Twilight_ , Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker bore witness to such atrocities. It was only here, in their fleeting moments together, when she would let go of her senatorial mask and _inhibitions_ and give herself fully to the moment. And he _loved it_. There was nothing compared to Padmé in the throes of passion. She was wild, untamed, _fucking beautiful_ and it thrilled him to know that only _he_ would ever see this side of her.

He splayed his hands on either side of her clothed hips, watching with rapture as she bounced atop him, fucking herself on his cock. She was a goddess; her head tipped back so that her loose, chestnut curls fell to the bottom of her spine and brushed against his knees, her elegant, pale throat exposed for his teeth to sink into, her sore, red lips parted each time she fell down on him, leaking a string of profanities. Padmé Amidala was the most breathtaking creature in the entire galaxy and, at that very moment, she was all his.

A sense of fierce possessiveness overwhelmed him at the thought, and Anakin grasped the back of her head harshly and roughly pulled her down for a kiss. His lips assaulted her own without mercy, biting and sucking, tongue fighting with hers for dominance and she mewled into his mouth, her nails digging in to the thick, black leather of his tabard. It was several minutes before he released her, only to move down the slope of her throat, marking her with his lips and teeth and tongue. When he bit down on the flesh of her collarbone, she let out a gasp and pulled away just as his tongue flicked out to soothe the bite.

" _Anakin_ ," she hissed, narrowing her brown eyes at him. " _Don't_. It'll show."

He grinned slyly at her, skimming his hands along the curves of her hips up to the dip of her waist, and back again. "You like it." It was true. She _did_ like it. His Padmé was extremely sensitive in that area and Anakin was always more than happy to oblige in her requests. But tonight, she was not having any of it. It amused him immensely.

Glaring at him, she ran her fingers gingerly over the wound, where a purplish-red mark would appear in a few hours and huffed. "Do you want us to get caught?"

With a shrug, he moved his mechanical hand up to cup her breast through her clothes, tweaking the nipple that was already hard for him. "I don't care."

Padmé pushed his hand away, furiously. "He already _suspects_ , you know."

"Maybe I _want_ him to suspect," Anakin responded coolly, his own eyes narrowing at the mention of him.

The blow across his face was not surprising, but the sting of it still left him reeling just a little. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Padmé practically quivering with anger, but it only served to make his cock twitch inside her. Force, she was so fucking gorgeous when she was angry. He was half tempted to pick her up, flip her over, and fuck her hard into the chair, but decided she would probably drive him through with his own lightsaber if he tried.

"You _asshole_ ," she spat at him. "Do you know what that would do to me? To my _career_?" Her voice trembled with fury.

Anakin merely rolled his eyes. They'd had this conversation too many times. It was nothing new. Still, it frustrated him that she constantly lectured him about _why_ they kept it a secret. As if he didn't already know. As if the knowledge wasn't eating him alive every fucking day when he was at the Temple, because all he wanted was to be with her, be inside her like this, for the rest of his life.

"I'm sorry. I forgot that your career is the only one that matters, _senator_ ," he drawled, sardonically. It was rude, but he was not in the mood to fight with her, not when his cock was buried in her to the hilt, hard and throbbing and about ready to burst. He just wanted to keep fucking her. They could have this conversation later.

She sighed in frustration and ran a hand through her hair. "That's not what I meant, Anakin, and you know it. Getting caught would affect _both_ of us. Do you want to be expelled?"

He met her gaze sternly, with as much force as he could muster, gripping her hips tightly. " _I want you_ ," he growled, low and husky and full of need. It worked like a charm. Instantly her pupils dilated and her eyes darkened to near black and she gripped the sides of his face roughly, crushing her mouth to his. This time, it was _her_ tongue that sought dominance, _her_ lips that mauled his own, but Anakin wasn't about to relinquish his control.

With a snarl, he picked her up and brought her back down on him so sharply that Padmé cried out, tears springing forth in her eyes and she was all but sobbing from the excruciating pleasure of it all. He kept it up, bucking his hips up to meet hers. Each brutal thrust caused his name to spill from her lips like a prayer, until she was chanting his name over and over to the rhythm of their hips; "Anakin, Anakin, oh, _Anakin_. Yes, yes – _Oh_! Right _there_. Don't stop – _don't ever stop!_ "

Her hands somehow found their way into his tangled, blonde hair and she gripped it harshly, almost painfully, yanking his neck back to attack his jaw and throat with her mouth. Her pace quickened as she scraped her teeth along his clavicle, dusting his skin with little nips and marks, making him moan. When she clenched her walls around him, almost suffocating him in her delicious, wet heat, he groaned out her name. "Padmé, _fuck_." His words caused her to grin against his skin and she did it again, circling her hips a little, making him jerk his own hips in response.

It was a test, a challenge, to see who could make the other crumble first. And Anakin Skywalker, the Hero With No Fear, was never one to shy away from a challenge. With a sly grin, he snuck his hands underneath her skirts, tracing soft circles on the smooth skin of her inner thigh, before brushing across the downy curls that covered her sex. Padmé stopped her assault of his neck to look him in the eyes, the taunt clearly written across her face. _Do it, I dare you,_ her eyes told him, and with a feral grin, he obliged.

As soon as his fingers came into contact with her swollen clit, she arched her back, breath hitched, undulating her hips into his touch, begging him for more. " _Oh_ ," she exhaled sharply, teeth sinking into the raw, bruised flesh of her bottom lip. "Not… _fair_ …" With a cruel laugh of victory, he did it again, and again, feeling her arousal seep out from where they were joined, coating his fingers.

He withdrew his fingers and was hit with a pang of inspiration. Smiling darkly, he brought his fingers up to her mouth, tracing over her bottom lip, keeping his gaze on hers. She blinked at him, confused. "Suck them." It was not a request, but an order, and even though he could tell that she was a little uneasy about it, her lips parted regardless and she drew his fingers into her mouth. Her tongue swirled around them so erotically, and that, combined with the vision of her red, full lips puckered around him, made him twitch and throb inside her at the memory of her wonderful, sinful mouth. As one of the most well spoken senators in the Galactic Republic, Padmé had a skilful tongue and was extremely eloquent, but Anakin was the only person who knew just how _well_ she could use her mouth. It usually didn't involve speaking.

Padmé kept her gaze on his as she sucked his fingers clean, eyes wide and determined, and when she was done, he withdrew them and cupped her jaw, leaving a trail of saliva in his wake, before he stretched his neck and kissed her once more. Tongue licking deep into her mouth, he could taste her, that intoxicating sweetness that drove him wild, and rewarded her with hard press of his metal thumb against her clit.

It threw her over the edge and she came violently around him, her walls pulsing and quivering as she rode out her orgasm. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she called his name in a silent sort of scream. Anakin held her limp body tight to his chest as he pounded up into her, feeling his own release getting closer with each squeeze of her spasming muscles.

" _Padmé_!" He groaned as his release hit him, spilling his seed deep inside her. " _Force_ , Padmé. I love you. I fucking love you." Anakin buried his head in her neck, inhaling the rich scent of her hair, his arms constricting tighter around her body as he came down from his high. She whimpered and continued milking him, until he collapsed back into the pilot seat, spent and exhausted, Padmé falling awkwardly on top of him.

Anakin kept his eyes closed as the waves of pleasure rolled over him like the calming water of the lake on Naboo, where he and Padmé had spent so many days exploring each other in the privacy of Varykino so many years ago. Back then, there'd been no need to worry about getting caught, no need to scurry off for secret rendezvous' in obscure hiding places; it had just been _them_. Sometimes, Anakin wished he could go back to that simpler time in his life, when he had still been optimistic that he and Padmé could have a life together. Now… things were much more complicated.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the feeling of Padmé pressing sweet, trembling kisses to the base of his jaw and a small smile crept on his lips. He lazily ran his hand through her sweat-dampened curls, letting his fingers catch in the tangles, before he cupped her chin and bent to kiss her. This time it was sweet, soothing, _gentle_ , so different from before, and it caused her to smile against his mouth.

When they pulled back, he swallowed at the gorgeous expression on her face; so relaxed and easy and beautiful, brown eyes in lazy half-moons. His trailed his metal fingers delicately along her cheek bone, relishing in the smoothness of her soft, ivory skin, the way it flushed under his tender affections. She was the most exquisite creature he'd ever beheld.

Padmé wrapped her arms around his neck, casually twirling the hair at his nape. "What are you thinking?" She asked him, her voice soft and light, like velvet.

Anakin sighed. He hated it when she asked him that. There were many things he was thinking about; how perfect they were for each other, how much he hated keeping their relationship a secret, how he wanted to throw everything away and just be with her, regardless of the consequences – but he didn't want to make her sad, not in her happy state, so he decided to tease instead.

"Oh, nothing," he smiled, stroking her hair affectionately. "Just how it'd be nice to fuck you in an actual bed for once."

She frowned and sat up, readjusting herself on his lap. The movement caused him to flinch a little as she squeezed his sensitive cock that was still inside her. "Don't call it that," she scolded him.

He fixed her with a scowl. "Would you rather me refer to it as 'making love'?" He drawled. "I thought that was something you only reserved for your _husband_."

She turned her head away from him. "Don't start this, Anakin. You know that Bail and I are only married in the formal sense of the word."

Her words made him scoff. "Right. So you don't sleep with him, then?"

Padmé hesitated and bit her lip, refusing to meet his gaze. "Ani… I – "

"Well? Do you?" He demanded, gripping her chin tightly to force her to look at him.

Tears welled in her eyes and her lip quivered. "I – _yes_ , but it's not… He's my _husband_ , Anakin. It's my... _duty_ …" Her voice was caught by a sob that wracked her entire body.

He looked away, unable to face her, to let her see how much her words hurt him. Of course, he shouldn't feel this way. She was a married woman, and a Senator, and he was a Jedi Knight. They could never work. It was impossible. And yet, he was still in love with her. Had been ever since he was a Padawan. She was intelligent and courageous and selfless and beautiful and he'd been smitten as soon as he'd met her.

She gripped the sides of his face, imploring him to listen to her. "It doesn't mean anything, though, Ani. _Please_ , believe me!"

Eventually, he met her steadfast gaze and when he spoke, his voice was so quiet that he could barely hear himself speak. "Do you love him?"

The question made her falter and the hesitation was enough to make Anakin physically _ache_. It had been a dangerous ploy from the beginning. He knew he shouldn't have gotten involved with Padmé. It went against everything he'd ever been taught by the Jedi Order, and even if he wasn't a Jedi, it was still complicated. Sleeping with a married woman was frowned upon by all, not just the Jedi. If anything, Anakin had brought this on himself. But it didn't make it hurt any less. He'd been unable to resist her.

She stroked his cheek softly, a small smile gracing her lips, her cheeks shining with tears. "No," she whispered. "I love _you_ , Ani. _Only you_. Always."

He turned his head to kiss her palm, before taking her hand in his, running his calloused fingertips over the smooth, delicate bones of her knuckles. "Then leave him."

With a sad smile, she let her hand drop from his face, instead fiddling with the sleeve of his robe. He watched her with a frown. It always came to this between them. She'd say that she loved him and he'd ask her to leave her husband and then she'd just stop talking. " _Why do you always have to ruin the moment, Ani,_ " she would tell him. " _Can't you just be here, with me? Isn't this enough?"_

It was never enough. Anakin wanted more. He hated having to skulk around after her, only getting to spend fleeting moments of passion together before she would run off, back to her husband and her Senate and her _duty_. As grateful as he was to have even a small part of her, he was greedy. He wanted all of Padmé. He wanted to have her all to himself.

It would never happen though. Her answer was always, _"I can't do that to him right now, Ani. He's very stressed about the war and tensions are high in the Senate. It's not the right time. When things settle down…"_ It had been the same answer for two years. She'd never leave Bail. Maybe she didn't love him, but she loved the security he brought her, the elevation he'd given her humble beginnings in the Senate once she had married such a well-respected, intelligent man. Even if she did leave Bail, Anakin knew that they would still have to hide their relationship. If the press found out that she'd been having an affair with a Jedi while being married to Bail Organa, she'd likely lose her seat as Naboo Senator. And Padmé was too career driven, too focussed on representing her people, on her duty, to take that risk.

"Anakin…" she sighed, leaning in to kiss him but he pulled away from her, scowl still etched on his face. She always did _this,_ too, distracting him in the middle of an argument so she didn't have to deal with the consequences. But Anakin was in no mood to be distracted.

"Why not, Padmé?" he demanded none too gently. "We love each other. If you leave him, we can finally be together. _Properly_. Don't you want that? Aren't you tired of all this secrecy?"

She whimpered and shook her head, more tears spilling down her cheeks as she looked down at her lap. "Of course I want that, Ani. You _know_ I do. It's just…"

Anakin knew what she was going to say and huffed, locking his jaw. "… not the right time," he finished bitterly, before lifting her off of him and standing up. He didn't want to argue with her, not now, not when this was the last time they could sneak off before he went back out into the field with Obi-Wan. Stretching his arms above his head, he rolled his neck, letting the joints hiss and crack, before heading off to the fresher.

" _Anakin_ ," Padmé called after him but he ignored her and closed the door, before stripping out of his robes. Her sweet, intoxicating perfume covered his skin and he needed to get rid of it before he returned to the Temple. He didn't want to raise suspicious, particularly from his Padawan, who was annoyingly observant when it came to him. She'd often asked him if there was anything going on between him and Padmé, catching the glances they spared each other when in the same room, or noticing when they'd suddenly disappear off somewhere to talk about the mission. Plus, Ahsoka wasn't stupid. She knew something was going on, especially when Anakin was constantly risking his life to save Padmé from a dangerous situation. He'd deny it every time, but still.

The soft padding of feet alerted him to her presence just as fully as her Force signature and yet he ignored her. He didn't want to face her, to see her pleading brown eyes, the eyes that had drawn him in all those years ago when he'd been nineteen and naïve and innocent to the seductive allure of the _look of a woman._ Now, he was more experienced, but still just as quick to succumb to her as he had been back then. It was easier if he just pretended she wasn't there, that she hadn't followed him.

As he reached into the shower to turn on the tap, he felt her small, soft hand press against the small of his back, just above the rise of his buttocks. The touch was timid and firm at the same time, and Anakin had no choice but to stop what he was doing. He didn't turn around, simply stood there in front of the shower, head hanging low so his curly blond hair fell in front of his eyes. Her arms came around his waist and soon she was pressing herself against his back, raining sweet kisses against his flesh, skimming her fingers along the ridges of his abdomen. Anakin let himself bask in her touch, revel in the feeling of her soft form against his, until he couldn't take it any longer. With a melancholy sigh, he stilled her hands and pulled them away from him, before slowly turning around.

"Padmé," he groaned, stepping closer to her and resting his forehead against hers. Her hands explored the expanse of his broad chest, trailing down his abdomen, following the line of blond hair that led to his soft cock, hanging limp between his thighs. Once more, he stilled her movements, not trusting himself if she put her hand around him. She had the power to make him do all manner of things with just one stroke of her skilful fingers.

"Ani…" She whispered, her voice soft and beckoning. "Don't do this. Not tonight. _Especially_ not tonight," she pleaded at him and the sound of her voice was so sad that Anakin immediately looked up, into her intoxicating gaze and his entire resolve broke apart.

"What do you expect from me, Padmé?" He implored, desperately, eyes searching hers for any kind of resolution. "To disregard my feelings for you? To fuck you good and hard and then send you off to your husband like nothing happened? Because if that's all you want, then I can't do this anymore."

" _No_!" She cried, shaking her head adamantly, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. "Don't say things like that, Ani. _Please_. You… You _know_ how much I love you."

Anakin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You can't have both of us, Padmé. That's not how it works. You have to choose."

A solitary tear trickled slowly down her cheek and Anakin watched it, somewhat gleefully. She was upset. _Good._ She couldn't play this game with him any longer. It had gone on for three years, but Anakin was determined. He was going to make her _his_ , no matter how much it took. The Hero With No Fear never shied away from a challenge.

"You _know_ why I can't do that, Anakin. Don't ask this of me."

"No!" He snarled, gripping her shoulders harshly and all but shaking her. She blinked back at him, horror and surprise swimming in her brown eyes, but she didn't shy away from his anger. "You don't get to do this to me anymore, Padmé _._ I won't let you. I deserve more than this... _Better_. Who's it going to be – me or him? Fucking _choose_." He'd never sworn at her before, and it made her flinch, but he was beyond caring. Anger controlled him, ruled him. He was tired of being second best, of hiding in the shadows and being treated as nothing more than a cheap _whore._ If she really loved him like she claimed, she'd relieve him of this agony – she'd leave her husband and commit herself to _him._

With a distressed whimper, she slowly shook her head, more tears falling down her soft cheeks. "I – " she began, her voice breaking as her body was wracked with sobs. Her pathetic attempt to soften him worked – if there was one thing Anakin couldn't handle, it was seeing his beloved upset. The better part of him yearned to seize her in his arms and hold her tight, but he remained firm. "I _can't_ – Anakin you… You don't _understand!_ "

Still gripping her shoulders, he let out a roar of frustration and slammed her against the door of the fresher, not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to startle her. He punched the wall beside her with his mechanical hand, making her squeal and gasp, as he glared at her, blinded with fury. "If you say it's the _fucking war_ again, I swear…"

"But it _is,_ " she wailed, clutching at his face desperately, trying to make him understand what he couldn't see. "This war… Ani, the _tensions_. Exposing such a scandal would only heighten –"

He barked a cruel laugh, glowering at her. " _You're_ worried about the scandal? In case you've forgotten, _Senator,_ I'm a Jedi Knight. Relationships are _forbidden._ I'm breaking every single code that governs the Order, every _rule_ I've been brought up to believe, and _you're_ worried about the _scandal_?! Fuck the scandal. Fuck the war. Fuck the Senate and the press. _Force,_ fuck the Order. _All_ that matters is our love, Padmé. The rest is trivial."

The smile she flashed him was so sad that he almost broke down in tears as she gently stroked his cheek, thumb brushing over his cheekbones with such clear _affection_ that he couldn't doubt her feelings for him. How could he, when she was looking at him like that?

"Oh, Ani…" She muttered in a small voice. "If only it was that simple."

He moved his hands from her shoulders up to cup her face, skimming his nose along his. "It _can_ be, my love," he promised her sweetly. "You don't have to be afraid of what people will say." He thumbed at her throat, feeling her quickening pulse under his skin and kissed the tip of her nose, then her wet cheeks, making his way towards her mouth. She pushed him away from her before he could kiss her properly, though, making him frown.

"It's not _that_ I'm worried about, Anakin." She bit her lip and sniffled adorably, before meeting his gaze. "Do you know the reason I've got so much support in the Senate for a ceasefire against the Separatists?"

"Because you're a brilliant speaker and people respect you," he answered immediately without a second thought. Even though he had no care for politics, he knew his beloved was a wonderful politician. Her heart was in the right place and she had this way of turning people over to her cause with her words. It made him proud.

She laughed softly, smiling up at him. "You have too much faith in me, my love," she told him, a blush decorating her cheeks. "But no. That's not it. It's because of Bail."

Anakin tipped his head to the side, surprised by her answer. "Your _husband?_ "

"Yes, Ani. My husband." Oh, how he hated hearing that word fall from her lips. It made him clench his fists instinctively. "Believe it or not, Bail is a good man and a very influential senator. Most of the support I've gained is because _he_ is my husband. Because _he_ supports my cause. If I – if we have a… _falling out_ … all that support will disappear."

His expression hardened. "Wait… you're telling me that you're staying with your husband because of some _Senate bill?!_ You've got to be kidding me!"

"It's _important_ , Anakin. Do you know what a ceasefire will mean? The end of the war! The end of suffering for so many people, so many star systems. _Peace_ , Anakin. I can't afford to lose the ground I've made if the price is peace in the galaxy. I _won't do it."_ The fire in her eyes burned so bright that, if Anakin wasn't in so deep already, would have made him fall in love with her again. He _loved_ when she was like this; so passionate and righteous and fierce. Despite all he was feeling, he couldn't help but beam down at her and, suddenly, he was kissing her, pouring his affection and admiration into her with everything he had, and she returned his vigour fervently.

When he pulled away, he ran a hand through her hair, nuzzling against her forehead. "You're too self-sacrificing for your own good, my love," he told her sadly. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit. _You're_ influential, Padmé. I've seen it, when you give speeches. The Chancellor has even told me himself. _You're_ the one who has brought people to your cause, not your husband. Besides," he forced himself to smile, "if your husband is as good a man as you say he is, then I doubt he will stop voting for a ceasefire just because you leave him."

Padmé laughed quietly. "Well no, he probably wouldn't. But many other Senators would. And I'd lose my respect. Who can trust the words of a Senator who's having an affair with a Jedi? Next thing you know, I'll be accused of being a Separatist!" She cried in outrage, throwing her hands up in the air. "Politics is fickle, Ani. I can't risk it."

Anakin blinked at her, struck by the finality of her tone. "So, that's it. You're sticking with this then, are you?"

"Yes." She said, firmly, nodding her head.

He furrowed his eyebrows. Why, oh _why_ did he have to fall in love with someone so selfless and headstrong? "You're going to stay married to a man who you don't love."

A secretive smile graced her lips as she gazed at him, then said, "I've never loved him."

 _That_ was even more difficult for Anakin to comprehend. " _What_? Why in the _Force_ did you marry him then?"

Padmé crossed her arms and fixed him with a stern glare. "Because he's a good man and we have the same ideals. Besides, I couldn't marry you, could I? As you so rudely pointed out, it's forbidden."

Anakin clenched his fist, raising it so it rested against the door, next to her head. "Does that mean, even if the war ends, you still won't marry me. Because I'm a Jedi?" When she didn't say anything, he growled aggressively. "I'd give it up for you, Padmé. I'd throw it all away to be with you."

She shook her head adamantly. " _No,_ Anakin. I couldn't let you do that. Being a Jedi is who you _are._ Who am I to take that away from you?"

"So, that's it," he muttered, defeated. "It's always going to be a secret then, is it?"

"Anakin," she reached up to cup his face, but he jerked away.

"Even if you did leave him, it makes no difference. You still won't be with me…" He took a step backwards, hanging his head, feeling the familiar ache in his chest grow exponentially in size until he thought his heart must burst from the weight of it. He'd never have anything more with Padmé. It would always be just _this,_ sneaking and hiding and trying not to get caught. He would never be able to call her _his_ , in front of the entire galaxy. Would never be able to have a family with her, grow old with her.

Suddenly, his mouth went dry. What was the point in even continuing this _charade?_ Nothing was going to come of it, except heartbreak. Padmé was as set in her views as he was in his – they were exactly the same in that regard. Her stubbornness had been one of the things Anakin loved about her, but now it only made him frustrated.

"I can't do this anymore," he whispered quietly, refusing to look at her. "I can't…"

Padmé stepped closer to him, head cocked in confusion, eyes wide and disbelieving. "Ani… What – what are you saying?"

Taking another step back, he looked up, meeting her eyes. "If you're never going to be with me… Then – then I can't do this anymore."

" _Please,_ " she reached out for his hand, but Anakin didn't make any acknowledgement of it. "Ani, don't talk like this. _Please_..." She exhaled shakily, tears leaking from her beautiful brown eyes again.

"I can't do it, Padmé. It _hurts._ It fucking _hurts."_ He ran a hand through his hair again, biting his lip.

She pleaded at him with her doe eyes, her bottom lip quivering with emotion and it took all of Anakin's willpower not to react, _not_ to go over to her and pull her into his arms. "But… _I love you,_ Anakin."

It was _his_ turn to whimper, a low, deep grumble of pure agony as his eyes scanned her lovely, sad features. "And I love _you_ ," he told her, earnestly. "More than my own life. More than _anything."_ He slumped his shoulders and exhaled deeply. When he met her gaze again, his eyes were moist with his own tears. "But I can't do this. A stronger man might be able to, but not me, Padmé. I'm… _weak._ I love you too much."

She went to embrace him, her arms outstretched, but he evaded her, putting his hands up in surrender, silently asking her to keep her distance. For if she kissed him now, he'd give in, and he couldn't afford to fall victim to her tender manipulations any longer. Tomorrow, he would be off to war, in Dantooine, with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. The mission could keep him away for months. When he came back, he hoped he would have forgotten all about her.

"So this is it? It's over?" Padmé whispered tearfully, a waterfall of tears falling silently down her cheeks.

Anakin nodded. "I'm afraid so, milady."

She nodded, blinking her eyes rapidly, before drawing herself up to her full height – donning her _senator_ mask. "Very well. I… I wish you all the best, Master Skywalker." She bowed her head respectfully.

"Do you need me to escort you back home, milady?" He asked.

Padmé shook her head, flashing him a weak smile. "No. I'm perfectly capable of getting back home myself." She stepped closer to him, touching his hair that framed his chin with such loving affection. "Would you permit me one last kiss? For goodbye?" Her voice was soft and velvety. Anakin nodded, and she stretched up on her toes, kissing him sweetly, moving her lips over his in such an achingly familiar way that he was unable to stop himself for cradling her face and deepening the kiss. When they broke apart after what felt like hours, Anakin felt his own cheeks were wet – whether from her tears or his, he didn't know.

She smiled prettily at him through her tears and traced his lips with her index finger. "Goodbye, Anakin," she told him, tenderly. "Be careful. _Please._ "

With a final, chaste kiss, she turned and left the fresher and Anakin sniffled, wiped his eyes, stepped into the shower and slumped against the wall. As the water rained over him, he sat on the floor, letting it cleanse him of his heartache, his pain, his _despair_ at losing the one thing in the galaxy he held dearer than anything else.

His _Padmé._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thank you for your patience. I know this chapter is a bit shorter than the previous one, so I apologise. Thank you for all your support so far! It's been incredible. I love how passionate people are about this story angle; I'm excited to explore it. I hope you enjoy it. I find it quite concerning, however, how harshly Padme has been judged so far. Please have some perspective. She's doing what she thinks is right. Whether she's actually right or not is a whole other matter, but she's doing it out of duty to the Republic, not malice towards Anakin.

This story will mainly follow Anakin's POV, but sometimes Padme or Obi-Wan will be the focus of a chapter. This is going to be a very lengthy, drawn out story, so I hope you're all in for the long haul. I will try to update frequently, but juggling so many other stories and three jobs and university makes it difficult to be timely. I apologise in advance.

Please enjoy this next instalment :)

* * *

 **Jedi Temple, Coruscant**

 **20 BBY**

A very disgruntled Anakin Skywalker stormed through the peacefully slumbering Jedi Temple, leaving wet tracks in his path. It had been raining, which he'd only realised once he'd left the depot, and, as he'd been on his speeder, his robes had soaked through, leaving him cold and wet and more aggravated than he had been to start with. A hard frown was etched on his face as he made his way towards his chamber, trying desperately not the wake any of the other Jedi. He was meant to be back hours ago, but after his falling out with Padmé, he'd resigned to tinkering with the _Twilight_ in an attempt to keep his mind occupied.

It hadn't worked.

His melancholia had soon morphed into anger, and his irrational state had made him work aggressively, lashing out on his poor freighter ship with uninhibited fury. Several windows had been broken when he had thrown various tools in his rage, which had made him curse and growl at his own stupidity as he began to fix them. By the time he had repaired all the self-inflicted damages to his ship, Anakin was more worked up than he had been when he started, and the pouring rain hadn't helped.

When he finally reached his chamber, he wrenched open the door and immediately began stripping out of his wet robes, leaving a haphazard trail as he made his way towards his bed. By the time he was completely naked, half the floor was covered in damp cloth, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to sleep. Pulling out a pair of sleep pants from the drawer beside his bed, he yanked them up until they rested on his hips and pulled back his covers.

Just as he had sunk into the mattress, the warmth soothing his wet skin, the door to his chamber opened. With a grumble of annoyance, he lifted one eye open, to see the silhouette of his Padawan in the doorway. _Great,_ he thought bitterly to himself. He'd woken Ahsoka – possibly the last person he wanted to see at that moment. Because she was bound to ask questions and he didn't feel like answering them.

With a groan, he shut his eye again. "Go away, Snips."

She ignored him. Of course she did. If Obi-Wan had thought _Anakin_ had been a difficult Padawan, it was nothing compared to Ahsoka. Perhaps it was because they were so similar that it frustrated Anakin so much. She was smart, quick-witted, outspoken in her opinions and trusted her instincts regardless of the orders she received, even if her instincts proved to be correct more often than not. Of course, he loved her and their bond was almost stronger than his bond with his former master, yet, Ahsoka was not someone he wanted to talk to at that moment.

Instead of obeying his request like a good Padawan, she entered his room, shut the door and heaved a dramatic sigh. "Where were you, Master?" she asked, and though her face was cast in shadow and Anakin's eyes were closed, he swore he could see the annoying, knowing smirk on her face.

"None of your fucking business, Snips," he snapped brusquely, wanting nothing more than for her to leave him alone to his thoughts and his meditation. "Leave me alone."

He could sense her frustration through the Force, but the petulant huff that followed his remark was proof enough of her disproval of his demand. Anakin didn't even need to open his eyes to know that she was standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, large turquoise eyes narrowed stubbornly.

"Fine," she growled. "Wallow in your own self-pity. I don't fucking care." She turned on her heel and made to walk out, when Anakin sighed deeply.

" _Snips,_ " he called to her, voice weary and tired. "Come back here."

When her face reappeared in the doorway, Anakin opened his eyes, a small smirk playing at his lips at the furious expression on her face. "Obi-Wan was right," he teased. "You _are_ too much like me. So _melodramatic_ , Snips."

She didn't appreciate his banter, however, and merely scowled at him, lips pursed into a thin line. "If that's your attempt at an apology…" she threatened, tapping her fingers against her arm as they were crossed over her chest.

"I'm sorry," Anakin apologised, sincerely. He hadn't meant to lash out at her, but he'd been angry and frustrated and she'd been the first person he'd come into contact with. It had felt better to blame her than to curse his own naivety in believing that Padmé would want to be with him. "I didn't mean to snap at you, Ahsoka."

With a small nod, his young Padawan stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a wave of her hand. She came to stand beside his bed and Anakin took a moment to appraise her. No longer was his Padawan the young, excitable, energetic fourteen-year-old girl she'd been when she'd first been assigned to him. Ahsoka Tano had grown up. Yes, the physical changes were the most obvious; she was taller, her striped lekkus has grown longer and pointed horns more pronounced, her face was angled and sharper, her body now held the curves of a women rather than the slimness of a young girl. But Ahsoka had changed far more than just her appearance. Now, she was a warrior - battled-hardened, wise, fierce, strong. She'd seen the same horrors that he'd seen, was plagued by the same nightmares he was. The expression on her face made her seem a lot older than her seventeen years. With a pang of guilt, Anakin once again marvelled at how much the war had changed everyone he loved – his Master, his Padawan, his lover…

Perhaps Padmé was right. Perhaps a ceasefire would do some good in the galaxy.

"I could feel you, you know," Ahsoka informed him, sitting beside him. "Through the Force. You weren't doing a very good job of shielding your emotions, Master."

Anakin fixed her with an annoyed frown. "Now you're sounding like Obi-Wan."

Ahsoka grinned cheekily, and it made Anakin smile at how young she looked, much like she had so many years ago. He _missed_ that Ahsoka – he missed her teasing and her banter. "Well, someone has to knock some sense into you, Master," she teased, quirking her lips into a smirk. "What would Master Kenobi say if he saw you right now?"

Rolling his eyes, Anakin contorted his face into a frown resembling that of his former Master's. "Be mindful of your thoughts, Anakin," he muttered, imitating Obi-Wan's voice. "They betray you."

The Togruta sniggered and shook her head. "Have you had practice with that, Master? That was spot on."

Grinning impishly, Anakin shrugged his shoulders. "There's been one or two occasions…"

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" she asked again, changing the subject so quickly that Anakin was impressed with her skill… and annoyed. His Padawan was quick witted, he had to acknowledge that. "Or do I have to weasel it out of you?"

Scoffing a laugh, Anakin fixed her with bemused smirk, lifting an eyebrow. "I'd like to see you try, my young Padawan," he teased.

Ahsoka fixed him with a serious expression. "You're having an affair with Senator Amidala, aren't you?"

He shot straight up, eyes widening in horror. Did she just… surely not! How did she _know?_ "Ex-excuse me?" he spluttered, trying to feign innocence but Ahsoka merely rolled her eyes, not having a bar of it.

"Oh, _please_ , Master. I know. The two of you are sleeping together."

Anakin scowled at her and shook his head adamantly. "I don't know what you're talking about. Padmé and I are – "

" – _just friends_ ," Ahsoka interrupted, mocking him with a smirk. "Yeah. _Right._ You don't have to pretend with _me,_ Master. I won't tell anyone. I promise." Her face suddenly grew serious again, and Anakin knew that she was being honest. His Padawan was more loyal to him than anything. There was no doubt in his mind that she _would_ keep his secret hidden, but still… to actually admit it...

With a sigh, he nodded his head slowly in defeat, seeing no logical reason in trying to deny it to his Padawan. "How…?" he asked weakly, barely lifting his head to meet her gaze.

"How did I find out?" Ahsoka smiled at him. "Master, you're about as subtle as a Gungan."

"That's comforting, Snips," he grumbled, wondering how many other Jedi knew of his _relationship_ with Padmé.

She laughed and dismissed his fears with a wave of her hand. "Oh, don't worry. No one else knows. It's only because I spend so much time around you. I see the looks you two give each other when you think no one's watching; and how you both _conveniently_ go off together to talk about _the mission_. Oh, and I've caught you once or twice," she added, screwing up her nose.

"What?!" Anakin roared, his face flushing hotly with embarrassment.

Ahsoka held her hands up in surrender, a look of pure disgust on her face. "Hey, it wasn't something I _wanted_ to see, _trust me_ ," she shuddered. "But _seriously_ , Master? The fresher on the _Twilight?_ Couldn't you have had your little… _rendezvous_ somewhere else? Somewhere without _me?!_ "

"Well… it's not like we _planned_ them, Snips," Anakin snapped defensively, crossing his arms. "S'not my fault you decided to come _snooping_."

Rolling her eyes, Ahsoka laughed darkly. "I didn't _have_ to snoop. Padmé is quite… vocal. From what I hear, you're _quite_ the lover, Master." She sniggered, waggling her eyebrows at him and Anakin glared at her, shooting daggers. He did _not_ want to have this conversation with her – not now, not **ever**. She was his Padawan… a _child_ still. It was so, so wrong!

" _Ahsoka!"_ he groaned in embarrassment. "You shouldn't be talking about this. You shouldn't even _know_ about this." He grit his teeth. If anyone got wind of this… if anyone else knew – he could be expelled. And, yes, he'd often contemplated the risk, throwing it all away, but that was with the object of marrying Padmé still in his mind. Now that she had refused him… he didn't want to lose his life as a Jedi as well. He couldn't do that to Ahsoka, or Obi-Wan. They were his family. They needed him, and he needed them, too.

She gave him a sweet smile and placed her hand over his. "I won't tell anyone, Master. I promise. But…" she sighed, fixing him with a pitied expression. "You should tell Master Obi-Wan. He would want to know."

"No," he shook his head, sadly. That thought had already crossed his mind, when he'd first started engaging in a relationship with Padmé. He felt guilty keeping something this monumental from his former Master, who was like a brother to him, but he _knew_ Obi-Wan. He was the most honourable and noble Jedi in the Order; had never put a foot wrong in his entire life. And Anakin greatly respected him for it. But it meant that he couldn't tell him… because Obi-Wan would feel it would only be right to inform the Council, and then Anakin would be in a worse position than if he just kept it to himself.

"I can't tell him. He wouldn't understand."

Ahsoka shook her head in sympathy. "Master, he _loves_ you. He would want to know. Besides, it not like you're the _only_ Jedi having an affair. Master Fisto and Master Securra have been sleeping together for years," she added matter-of-factly, as though that changed everything.

Anakin only sighed. He knew about Kit Fisto and Aayla Securra's relationship. They were not the only ones either; many Jedi or Padawan's had similar physical relationships with other Jedi, simply for relief. It wasn't unheard of. In fact, the Order encouraged such relationships, as a stress-reliever, particularly during war time. But Anakin's relationship with Padmé was different. It wasn't simply for sexual relief – they _loved_ each other. They had an attachment. _Attachments_ of any kind, were forbidden by the Order – something his former Master had continued to drill into him for _years._

"That's not the same, Ahsoka," Anakin countered miserably. "Padmé and I… it's not for – well…" he felt awkward talking about releasing sexual frustration with his young Padawan. Despite how much she had grown up, he still saw her as the little girl she'd been all those years ago. Rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably, he decided to continue. "Padmé and I… we – we _love_ each other. I'm _in love_ with her, Ahsoka. I have been since I was a Padawan."

"All the more reason for you to tell him, Master."

Anakin shook his head and ran a hand through his hair in defeat. "There's nothing to tell, Snips. Not anymore. It's over."

She blinked at him in confusion. "What do you mean, _it's over?"_

"Padmé and I aren't seeing each other anymore." Ahsoka reached over and gripped his hand tightly, for support. "I mean, I should have seen it coming. She's _married,_ after all."

"I'm sorry, Master," she said softly, her large turquoise eyes wide in concern.

He gave her a weak smile. "S'not your fault, Snips."

"Still," she sighed. "I know how much she means to you."

Never had Anakin been more grateful to have his young Padawan that at that moment. She was just the support he needed to get over Padmé. It would be painful, and it would take time, but he was glad that _she_ would be with him, to help him get through it.

She read his thoughts and squeezed his hand again, more firmly this time. "I'll always be here, Master," she told him. "You're not alone. We're family, you and I. You may not have Padmé, but you'll always have me. And Master Kenobi. We love you, Master."

"Thanks, Ahsoka," Anakin said with a smile. "I love you too." The bond he shared with his Padawan was like his bond with Obi-Wan – unbreakable. They'd experienced too much together, shared each other's thoughts, saved each other's skins. "Besides, I've got other things to worry about, anyway. And so do you. We're going off to Dantooine tomorrow, remember."

A teasing smirk tugged at her lips. "Of course I remember. But are you sure you can handle such an important mission? Or are you too emotional?"

Her tease made him roll his eyes. _This_ he liked, better than the sappy, sentimental stuff. Playful banter and teasing came easy to him. "Watch yourself, Snips," he teased, "Or I'll give _you_ something to be emotional about."

Laughing, she stood up from beside his bed and rolled her eyes. " _Sure_ , Master." She made to leave, looking over her shoulder as she reached the door. "Sleep well."

"You too."

Anakin lay back against his pillow and shut his eyes, trying _desperately_ not to dream of Padmé.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** A new chapter for you! I know some readers want a chapter from Padmé's POV, and trust me, it will happen, but right now, we're still in Anakin's head. I enjoy being in his head... he's so complex and intriguing. Anyway, hope you enjoy this next chapter! Please review, I love hearing your thoughts :)

* * *

 **The _Twilight,_ Coruscant**

 **20 BBY**

 _"Don't be afraid." He muttered into the darkness. Anakin wasn't quite sure who he was talking to; himself, or Padmé. The prospect of death had never really occurred to him, not properly. He was a Jedi. It was impossible to kill Jedi, at least, that's what he'd heard. His Master had told him only Sith had the power to kill a Jedi._

 _Master Obi-Wan had been wrong._

 _Here he was, about to face his death, with the love of his life beside him. He glanced at her, drank in her lovely features half illuminated by the faint light that flooded in from the hole in the tunnel up ahead. There was a calmly stoic expression on her face as she met his gaze, holding him captive with her beautiful brown eyes. In that moment, she looked more regal, more Queen-like than Anakin had ever seen, even more so than when she'd ruled Naboo ten years prior._

 _It quieted his anxiety._

 _"I'm not afraid to die," she told him. Anakin believed it, too. Padmé Amidala was fierce and brave, the strongest woman he'd ever known. Nothing could shake her; even with all the assassination attempts on her life, she'd held firm to her steadfast beliefs, putting the needs of her people ahead of her own safety. Of course, it made the job of protecting her all the more difficult for poor Anakin, and their current situation was a direct result of her…_ stubborn _nature. But, Anakin found that he held no resentment towards her at all. In fact, he loved her all the more for it._

 _"I've been dying a little bit each day since you came back into my life." Her confession was soft and timid. And the way she was looking at him…_ Force _, he felt his knees tremble under his weight, struggling to hold him up. He couldn't be hearing this right. After everything she'd told him, about how they could never be together, about how it would destroy them, she was telling him this?_

 _His heart beat a little faster behind the thick leather of his robe, and he was surprised Padmé couldn't hear it. But he swallowed, blinked his eyes, and tipped his head at her in confusion. "What are you talking about?" he asked her quietly. He was at war with himself. A part of him wanted to hear her say what he thought she was about to say, but another part of him was terrified of that knowledge._

 _There was such a sad expression in her eyes as she looked up at him, and Anakin wanted nothing more than to kiss her at that very moment, like he had done when they were beside the lake at Varykino. Then, her pale pink lips parted and she uttered the sweetest words he'd ever heard…_

 _"I love you."_

 _At first he was a little stunned. Had he heard that right? Surely not. Surely this was all just a dream and he'd wake up, to find himself in his bed, alone. Just to be sure, he repeated her words, keeping none of his incredulity out of his tone. "You love me?"_

 _Padmé said nothing, just continued blinking up at him with her large, brown eyes. Those same eyes that had captivated him as a child. That had haunted every dream he'd ever had since he'd first seen her, all those years ago._

 _She loved him? How could she possibly love him? She, a brilliant Senator, loved him, a reckless Jedi Padawan? It was ridiculous. Just the other night, she told him that they couldn't fall in love. That it was impossible. He was a Senator and she was a Jedi. It would never work. And now, here she was, breaking her word! Confessing her love to him?_

 _It was the greatest moment of his entire life._

 _Still, he had to be certain. Perhaps she was playing a cruel joke on him. He had to know. "I thought we had decided not to fall in love," he reminded her. "That we'd be forced to live a lie. And that it would destroy our lives."_

 _A melancholy smile played across her lips and she leaned a little closer to him. "I think our lives are about to be destroyed, anyway."_

 _Anakin couldn't help the returning smirk he flashed her at her words. There was something beautifully ironic about this entire situation. Here they were, confessing their love for each other, and in mere moments they would probably both be dead. Perhaps, in years to come, the great poets and playwrights in the Galaxy would write an epic about their tragic love. It would certainly make for a compelling story._

 _"I truly…" she whispered, so quietly that he had to bend to hear her. "Deeply…" she was leaning towards him, the distance between them growing smaller and smaller by the second. "Love you…"_

 _His heart did that little flutter again, a tiny, uneven palpitation in response to her words. He didn't even care if he lived or died after this moment, because Padmé had confessed her love for him. She returned his feelings, and he felt elated beyond proper reasoning. No power in the entire galaxy could give him half the joy he was feeling at that moment, he was certain of it. If it was to be the last day of his life, then he'd die a happy, happy man._

 _She was so close to him now. He could see every single one of her long, thick eyelashes, the light dusting of dainty freckles that decorated the bridge of her nose. Her breath, warm and sweet, washed over him so deliciously._

 _"And before we die I want you to know."_

 _Anakin closed the distance between them, pressing his mouth to hers gently and she parted her lips just a little, to move along with his in the sweetest way he'd ever known. Her lips were soft, just like her skin, and moulded to his in such an easy, gentle caress, that he forgot about his need for oxygen. Everything he needed was right there, in the warm embrace of Padmé's mouth…_

Anakin sat straight up in his bed, eyes wide in sheer agony. His entire body was covered in perspiration; he was dripping from head to toe with it. Each breath heaved with the weight of his dream – was it even a dream? It felt far too real to be a dream. He swore he'd been right there, back on Geonosis three years ago, right there with _her…_

Bringing his flesh hand up to his mouth, he traced the contours of his lips with his index finger. He could _feel_ her kiss, the softness of her lips sweet against his mouth as they'd moved against his, so timid and yet so certain. When he flicked his tongue out, he swore he could still _taste her_ , that unique, heady flavour that was unique to Padmé, that quenched his thirst like nothing else. And yet, no matter how real his dream had felt, the evidence was all around him. Alas, it had been but a dream.

With a heavy sigh, Anakin swung his legs off the side of his bed and rested his head in his hands, trying to clear his mind the way Obi-Wan had taught him when he'd been a Padawan. But he couldn't. He'd never been good at meditating as it was, and now it was even harder to collect his thoughts and calm his mind. All he could think about was Padmé.

He remembered that moment vividly, as though it had only been yesterday. The moment where she had softly confessed her love for him, the love that matched his own, and the sweet kiss they'd shared, consecrating their love. For Anakin, it had been the beginning of the end, or, at least he'd thought that at the time. And he wouldn't have asked for a sweeter ending – departing this life with the feeling of Padmé's mouth as his last living memory. It hadn't seemed all that bad a prospect.

Only, they hadn't died on Geonosis. Both of them had lived and Anakin had escorted Padmé back to Varykino afterwards, where he had made the greatest and yet worst mistake of his life.

He'd slept with her.

It wasn't entirely his fault. He'd been willing to keep his distance, to put her sudden confession of love down to adrenaline and then return to the war and forget it ever happened. But when she'd called him to her bedchamber that calm, still night, he'd been unable to resist her. Anakin remembered that night so vividly, so clearly, as though it was etched into his very skin. She'd taken his virginity that night, and he had taken hers. They'd made love to each other endlessly, exploring every inch of the other's body, discovering new heights of pleasure, up until the early hours of the morning. It had been sweet and timid and desperate, full of the aching desire that had grown larger and larger between them over the course of their time together, and it had been everything Anakin had ever dreamed it could be.

When they were finally spent and exhausted, lazing together in an entanglement of sweaty limbs, Anakin had asked her to marry him. Despite the fact that it was forbidden, and would have to remain a secret, he'd proposed. He'd given her his body, and he'd wanted to give her his soul as well, bind his life to hers in the most romantic of gestures.

And she'd declined. He really shouldn't have been that surprised. All the time he'd known her, Padmé had been duty-bound; she was selfless, never putting her needs above those of her people, or peace. It was one of the many things he admired about her, even loved her for, in fact, and he couldn't be angry at her decision to refuse him. It was the right thing to do.

The next day he'd been sent off to war and seven months later had finally returned to Coruscant with hopes of reuniting with Padmé… only to find that his beloved was married to another man – Senator Bail Organa, as well respected, kind, intelligent man whom, no matter how hard he tried, Anakin couldn't find a fault in. It had enraged him to no end, and he'd approached Padmé, angry and hurt and betrayed, and demanded to know why she'd married him. She'd explained how it was all for publicity and was just a show, and that she loved _him_ and _only him_. They'd made passionate love again, on the desk in her office in the Senate building, and after that, their affair had continued.

Up until now.

With a sigh, he pulled himself to his feet and stumbled off to the 'fresher. He shouldn't be thinking about her. They were over. She'd chosen her path and he'd been forced to choose his and now he had to accept it. There were other things he needed to focus on; he couldn't keep getting distracted by _her._

Grumbling to himself, he stripped out of his robes and stood under the stream of scalding water, letting the steam swirl around his head and cleanse his thoughts. He was doing a terrible job of keeping his emotions under control. _This_ was why Jedi weren't supposed to have attachments. _This_ was why the Order feared such relationships. He was going off to _war._ He needed a clear head, he needed to _focus_ , **not** get distracted by Padmé. It was over. Their affair, their _relationship_ , was finished, and the sooner he came to terms with that, the better off he would be.

"Master?" Ahsoka's voice echoed over the sound of the shower. "Master Obi-Wan has called a meeting."

With a groan, Anakin hissed back a quick sound of compliance and heard the padding of Ahsoka's feet as she walked away from him. _Great_ , he thought bitterly as he raked a hand through his wet hair. _Just what I need_. Though he couldn't disregard the importance of such a meeting, all Anakin wanted to do was sleep. He was fucking _exhausted._ Sleep had been something difficult to come by these past two nights spent on the Republic Ship, as every time he closed his eyes, he was plagued by haunting memories of Padmé. Memories he hadn't particularly wanted to relive, as they were painful reminders of what he had lost.

Still, he couldn't deny Obi-Wan, and so he turned off the water and stepped out of the 'fresher. As he dried himself, he couldn't help but notice how much his physique had changed in the three years since the war began. Back then, when he'd still been Padawan to Obi-Wan, he'd been tall and gangly, with the awkward lankiness of a teenager. Now, however, he had filled out into a much more powerful frame; broad shoulders, chiselled chest and hard, toned abdomen, muscular thighs and calves, strong back. Even his face had changed; much of that young, adolescent plumpness that had rounded his cheeks replaced with hard lines and sharp angles. The scar over his right eye gave him an almost permanent scowl, which Padmé had often confessed she'd found _irresistible_. He possessed the body of a _man_ , now, a seasoned warrior, a war hardened battle commander. He was a Knight of the Jedi Order.

And, he wasn't going to let a _woman_ – even a woman as remarkable as Padmé Amidala – cloud his thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** I apologise for taking so long to update on this story. But, here is the Padmé POV chapter that people were asking about. Also, I must stress, this story is in the beginning stages. It's a slow-build. It also might be a little controversial for traditional Anidala lovers, but it's intended that way. So, please be patient with me and enjoy the emotional rollercoaster I'm putting these poor souls through :)

 _Please review! :)_

* * *

 **Senatorial Residency, Senate Building, Coruscant**

 **20 BBY**

"Mistress Padmé," C3P0 greeted her as she entered the apartment she shared with her husband. "You are quite late."

She shrugged off her cloak and hung it on the hanger beside the door, before she stepped into the room and retrieved her data-pad as it rested on the table beside the sofa. It had been a long, tiring day, but the heartbreak of ending her affair with Anakin weighed down upon her shoulders heavier than any of her other worries.

It shouldn't have.

Padmé Amidala was a Galactic Senator. There were more important things that should have occupied her mind – like the war-torn state of the Republic, the looming demise of democracy, the suspicions she had of corruption within the Senate itself… Those were the sort of things she _should_ have been worried about. And, she'd tried. Truly, she had. She'd attended meetings, given speeches, engaged in educated debates on the state of the Republic, but ever present, in the back of her mind, was the miserable, defeated expression that had crossed Anakin's face when they'd broken off their affair.

It had been the right thing to do – _both_ of them knew it, so why was it affecting her so? Why couldn't she sleep at night? Why did she feel so empty, so lost and hopeless and _dead inside? I love him,_ her subconscious answered for her.

Scowling, she slumped down onto the sofa and scrolled through her data pad, acquainting herself with the news of the day and getting up to date with the local gossip. There was a small spread about _her_ , and she read it curiously. It was always interesting to read the tabloids about oneself; journalists could write a load of Shaak dung and yet people would grasp onto it as though it were pearls of wisdom. This time, it was no different.

A blurb of text accompanied a dark, blurred photograph of her as she left the transport depot, the last night she had seen Anakin. The sight made her skin crawl at the memory of that night; three nights ago. And now, to make matters worse, they'd been caught. The headline: ' **The Republic's Most Scandalous Affair: Who is Amidala's Secret Lover?'** blared loudly across the screen of her data pad, like a grotesque scarlet letter, and she was instantly filled with immense guilt. It was lucky that her husband didn't read such rubbish or partake in gossip – all of her attempts to conceal her illicit affair would have been over long ago if he had.

Of course, Padmé was used to the gossip. She wasn't the only Senator under the pump – many others had been accused of having affairs as well over the course of their careers. The media liked a juicy story, and the civilians of Coruscant soaked up a new scandal like a sponge. But, it would soon end, and some else would be under the knife. _That_ was politics.

With a frustrated sigh, she turned off her data pad and discarded it on the sofa, before standing, stretching and making her way into the kitchen for a cup of caf. After a long, draining day, all she wanted was to curl up on the sofa with her caf and watch the HoloNet in peace. As she brewed the caf, she called to Threepio. "Is my husband home?"

"Yes, Mistress," the droid replied, nodding his head. "Master Bail is in the bedchamber. Would you like me to wake him?"

A smile curled at her lips, suddenly thankful that her husband was asleep. "No, thank you, Threepio. Let him sleep. I will join him soon. You can power down now."

With a titter, clearly disappointed with not having any more use, Threepio muttered, "Of course, Mistress. As you wish," then waddled out of the room.

Padmé spent hours lying there on her leather couch, drinking her caf and watching the HoloNet. Much to her annoyance, there was not a single scrap of news about the siege on Dantooine – where Anakin was currently fighting alongside Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. Of course, it must have been a good thing, as the HoloNet typically only broadcasted disasters, or tragedies, but Padmé wanted something – _anything_ – that told her Anakin was alive and well. If something happened to him…

She shuddered to think about it.

Because as much as she tried to deny it, she still loved him. She had for _years._ Anakin Skywalker was her one true love, the only person in the entire galaxy who knew her better than she knew herself. He brought light and love into her life and without him, she felt… _empty._

With a miserable sigh, Padmé stretched her limbs with a yawn and shuffled into her bedroom. The curtains were drawn tight across the wide, open windows, yet they fluttered in the cool breeze, letting pools of light trickle across the floor. Her husband was sound asleep on his side of the bed, and Padmé watched him for a moment. Normally, when one looked upon their spouse whilst they were sleeping, they were supposed to feel something akin to affection. All Padmé felt was guilt.

It wasn't Bail's fault. The marriage had been a mutual agreement between both of them – a uniting of forces, so to speak. And, he cared for her, that much she knew. He never pressured her, or forced himself upon her, and the rare occasions they did make love were lovely, truthfully. But, it always left Padmé feeling dishonest.

It was a chore, to lay with her own husband, to share his bed, and that knowledge made her feel _awful._ Because she would always think of _Anakin_ when her husband was inside her, picture _him_ above her; his hands in her hair, his hot, sweaty skin sliding against hers. She'd picture his bright blue eyes blaring into her own, imagine his lips mashing roughly against hers. And, sometimes, she had to bite her lip so hard that it bled to keep from crying out _Anakin's_ name.

Sighing miserably, she stripped out of her gown, slipped her nightgown over her head and crawled into bed beside her husband. The sheets were cold against her skin – three years of marriage, and it was almost as though they didn't even sleep together, neither one retreating into the other's side, keeping their distance. They never touched each other, not unless they made love, which was a rare occurrence as of late. The more time she spent with Anakin, the more repulsed she became by her husband's presence. There were times when she wanted to sleep alone, but knew she would raise suspicion is she did, and so she played the role of the good wife.

It was a role she was _very_ skilled in performing. Almost _perfect._ In the morning, she would brew a pot of caf for the two of them and place a cup on his seat at the table, along with his own data pad, in readiness for breakfast. He would emerge from the bedroom, freshly showered and dressed, and she would greet him politely and kiss his cheek quickly. They would walk together to their offices, and when they'd part ways, Padme would wish him a good day, which he would return with a chaste kiss to her lips. She would organise outings to fancy restaurants after a tough week in the Senate, they would engage in intense, invigorating political discussion when at home together, and she would always praise him endlessly for his wonderful speeches – which were truly outstanding.

For all intents and purposes, it was a fine marriage. Many of her female friends in the Senate were a little envious of her match with Bail, and honestly, Padmé couldn't blame them. He was a wonderful man; intelligent, loyal, generous, and compassionate. And he was a good husband, too. She _should_ have been happy – another other woman would have _gladly_ taken her place as his wife. But her marriage lacked the one thing Padmé desired more than anything.

 _Spark._

Yes, Bail Organa was a good man. He was thoughtful and caring and at all times polite. But Padmé yearned for something more, something only _Anakin_ could give her. Her Jedi lover was unpredictable. He was wild. He was _passionate_ and _intense,_ barely keeping his emotions in check – they were always there, simmering closely under the surface of his skin. That _fire_ that burned inside Anakin Skywalker made Padmé feel more alive than anything else in the world. He brought out a side of her that she'd never knew she had. She _craved_ it, _oh_ how she craved the way he made her feel. With Anakin, she was more than just a senator. She was desirable, aggressive, confident, demanding. She was a _woman._

When she closed her eyes, she dreamed of him, her Ani, her fierce, brave Jedi. But he wasn't _hers_ anymore. He'd left her. The thought made her blood boil with sudden jealousy. He could be with _anyone_ , now. He was free. There was nothing tying him to her. _Nothing._ What would stop him from taking another lover? Stars, he almost _deserved_ it, after everything Padmé had put him through. And yet, as much as she hated to admit it, Padmé seethed at the very thought of Anakin with another woman – a woman who wasn't her. Images of his body sliding against another's, of his lips grunting out a name that wasn't hers, of him reaching his pleasure inside another woman, flashed before her closed eyes and she sat up sharply in bed, her breathing heavy and laboured.

Angry tears welled in her eyes and she brushed them away furiously. _Pull yourself together,_ she cursed herself. _You're a Senator._

Beside her, Bail stirred and rolled onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. "Padmé?" His voice was thick and blurry with sleep.

Glancing down at him, she gave him a weak, pathetic smile. "I'm fine, dear. Go back to sleep." She hoped it would be enough to placate him. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to her husband right now.

However, Bail seemed to have other ideas. Shuffling into a sitting position, he yawned and rubbed his eyes before fixing her with a confused frown. "Padmé…" His hand reached out to take hold of hers but she flinched away from him.

"I'm _fine,_ Bail," she insisted firmly. "Go back to sleep."

He regarded her with sad, dark eyes and Padmé instantly felt guilty about brushing him off. All he wanted was to care for her. How many other women yearned for that?

"You're unhappy," he stated after a few minutes of silence, his eyes sweeping over her face.

She didn't respond, because it was true, but held her tongue, not wanting to raise suspicion. Her head fell into her lap.

"What is it, my love? You haven't been yourself these past few days. Is it me? Have I done something to upset you?"

That just made Padmé feel even _more_ wretched. Is this what she'd put him through – made him think _he_ was the reason she was unhappy? Padme cursed herself internally. What a horrible, selfish person she was.

With a heavy sigh, she drew her legs up to her chest and hugged them. "Do you ever feel like our marriage was a mistake?" she whispered, her voice thick with the shame she felt at admitting her true feelings. Her husband's hand rested gently on her shoulder, but she couldn't bear to face him. The hurt and betrayal in his face would be too much for her.

After some time, Bail interrupted the silence between them. "I know you're not thrilled to have married me," he began quietly. "I know this isn't the life you had planned. You're still so young, and to have married an old man like me…"

His self-depreciation was awful to listen to and Padmé immediately turned her head to look at him, reaching for his hand and giving his fingers a squeeze. "No, dear. Don't say that. You're a wonderful husband. I'm sorry. I'm just being… silly."

His expression was grave as he regarded her. "Is there something you want? Something I can do to make you happy again? I'll do whatever you ask."

There is was, that steadfast love and care he held for her shining true and tears welled in Padmé's eyes. Her self-loathing had never been worse than this. She was, truly, the most despicable person in the entire galaxy, to be hurting such a wonderful, genuine man the way she was. Wiping her eyes with her thumb, she immediately shook her head. "N-no… don't be ridiculous..."

"Maybe if we had a baby…? Would a child make you happy? Even if it was mine?"

His suggestion caught her completely off guard. A child? They'd never spoken about children before. It wasn't part of the agreement they'd constructed when they'd married three years ago. Padmé wasn't even sure if she wanted to be a mother… it had never occurred to her before. She was too career focused, to consumed with fighting for her people.

"Bail… we're in the middle of a war!" she reminded him, flabbergasted, her eyes wide in utter shock.

Nodding his head, he smiled sadly at her. "Yes, but maybe a child is exactly what we need. To remind the people, to remind _us,_ that there is still hope… still goodness, in the galaxy."

The way he said it, like he was reciting another one of his speeches, made her raise her eyebrows, suspiciously. "Where is this coming from?" she demanded. "Who put this idea in your head?"

Her husbanded swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "W-well… I m-might have been discussing the… state of our marriage… with the Chancellor…" he confessed, ducking his eyes from her, almost sheepish.

Padmé scowled. She didn't trust Palpatine. There was something about him that made her wary. To her, he was power hungry and scheming; she was certain he'd planned to have ultimate control over the Republic during the war, only she couldn't prove it.

"I don't like that you discussed our private life with the Chancellor, Bail."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, wearily. "I know you don't trust him, Padmé, but I'm worried about you. All I want is for you to be happy."

"I know," she muttered, giving him what she hoped was a small smile. "Do you really want to have a baby?"

"I've always wanted to be a father," he said, a sweet smile cracking on his face. "But, only if you want to. If you think it's a bad idea, then we won't do it."

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Padmé pondered his suggestion. Of course, it wasn't what she'd expected, but why _shouldn't_ they have a baby? They were married, after all, and any hope of a relationship with Anakin was gone. She would have to accept her life as Mrs Bail Organa… and she was okay with that. Truly. It was the path she'd chosen, and she had to accept those consequences.

And so, she nodded her head and smiled at her husband. "Alright. We'll try for a baby," she said. "It'll be the start of our new family."

She'd never seen her husband look so happy, and as he embraced her, kissing her softly, she closed her eyes and thought of the beautiful, blue eyed, Tattooine boy who'd stolen her heart so many years ago. He was long gone, now. He wasn't in her life anymore. _This_ , was her life. The new life she was creating with her husband.

And she was somewhat content with that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Here is the next installment to this story. Now, to be honest, I'm not the best at writing battle scenes (cringe) but I did my best. So please be kind :)

In regards to the last chapter, I understand that it might have been a bit upsetting to hardcore Anidala fans. Believe me, I am a massive Anidala fan. But I wrote this story specifically to be an AU. Things don't turn out like they did in the movies, and they probably won't turn out the way you expect them to. Still, I'm enjoying writing this. Please stick with this story. As I keep saying, it's a slow build and a lot will happen.

 _Please review! :)_

* * *

 **Separatist Base, Dantooine**

 **19 BBY**

" _General Skywalker! Come in."_

The comm-link on Anakin's wrist blinked pulses of green light as Captain Rex's voice floated up to his ears. He quickly whirled, slicing through a battle droid with his electric blue lightsaber, then rolled to the side, finding shelter behind a large boulder. His blue eyes scanned the horizon for any onlookers, keeping his wits about him, as he pressed his wrist to his lips.

"Rex," he barked into the comm-link.

" _We're outnumbered, General."_

A new, higher-pitched voice bleeped through the comm-link. " _I can't hold them by myself, Master,"_ the voice of his Padawan echoed through his ear.

Hearing Ahsoka's voice made him hesitate just a little. His Padawan had grown so much over the last three years of being his apprentice, but she was still young. He couldn't afford to lose her. Not now. "Fall back," he commanded. "Meet at the rendezvous. We'll re-evaluate from there."

" _Aye, General."_

 _"_ _Yes, Master."_

With a determined scowl, Anakin ignited his lightsaber once more and leapt out from behind his hiding place, making short work of the surrounding droids, before he bounded off to the rendezvous point. He, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan had been on Dantooine for about a month, trying to liberate the people from the oppressive reign of the Separatists. When they'd first arrived, there had only been a small droid army to deal with, and Anakin had hoped the mission would be over in a few weeks and he could return to Coruscant.

Instead, Separatist backup had arrived in the form of General Grievous, as well as a much larger, more advanced, droid army. It presented quite a challenge to the three Jedi and their handful of Clones. So far, they'd lost nearly a quarter of their men, without making so much as a dent in Grievous' forces. Obi-Wan had asked for help from Master Windu, but they were on Ryloth, fighting their own battles.

They were on their own.

Rex and Ahsoka were waiting at the rendezvous, along with several of the Clone troopers, though less than Anakin had been hoping for. His squadron had consisted of more than thirty men, but as he quickly countered the survivors, there were less than fifteen. He'd lost more than half of his men. With a grimace, he ran a hand through his unruly, thick curls and fixed his Captain with an accusatory glare.

"What happened?" he demanded sharply, crossing his arms over his broad chest. This was not what he had planned. They were meant to create a diversion for the droid army, so that Obi-Wan could infiltrate their defenses and take over their base. They were _not_ supposed to be defeated in less than thirty minutes.

Captain Rex took off his helmet and inclined his head respectfully. "We tried to hold them off, General, but they were prepared for our attack. They knew we were coming. We didn't stand a chance."

A deep scowl etched deep lines into Anakin's forehead. "And Master Kenobi?"

His Padawan stepped forward, her expression difficult to read. "We cannot reach him, Master. His communication has been disabled."

" _Kriff!_ " Anakin swore, pacing about with his hands behind his back. This was all _wrong._ Something must have happened to Obi-Wan, Anakin was sure of it. Either he had been captured, or killed – Anakin sincerely hoped for the former – but either way, it was now up to _him_ to save his skin. _Typical_ , he thought wryly, shaking his head. His former Master may have thought him impatient and reckless, but _who_ was the one who was constantly in need of saving? If it wasn't such grave circumstances, Anakin would have laughed at the irony. Instead, he stopped pacing and faced his men, and Ahsoka.

"Well, I guess it's up to us to save his ass. Ahsoka," he turned to his Padawan. "Find Artoo and get him to do a quick scan of the Separatists base. Maybe he can pick up Master Kenobi's whereabouts."

The Togruta nodded her head and muttered, "Yes, Master," before scurrying off to find the droid, lightsaber in hand.

"Rex," he then turned to his Captain. "What do you know about the base?"

The Trooper stepped forward, and pulled a small, holographic device from within his arm. Clicking the button on the side, a large hologram of the Separatist base rose up before them, taking up the entire space. "We managed to obtain this from a protocol droid when managed to capture and disable," Rex explained. "There are two main entry points to the base, both heavily guarded. However, if we access the ancient sewage tunnels here," he pointed to a series of interwoven underground passages that weaved like some obscure snake underneath the building. "We may be able to enter the base at the transport hangar here. To our knowledge, the Separatists were unaware of these tunnels when they built their base, however, the Dantooinans know them well. There is an entrance not far from here. It will not be a pleasant passage, General, but if we can make it undetected, we may stand a chance of entering the base undetected and wiping out the leader."

Anakin chewed on the inside of his cheek as he processed the information. Sewage tunnels were not appealing in any sense, but if they proved an effective way to enter the base, then Anakin would take it. Just as he began devising a plan for the attack, Ahsoka returned with Artoo, who identified the estimated location of where Obi-Wan could be held. It was a small, rectangular room located on the top floor of the base, on the eastern wing.

Anakin took this information with his lips pursed into a thin line, and he, along with Rex, organised their battle strategy. The men were to split up, Anakin taking half the men with Artoo, and Ahsoka taking the other half with Rex. Once everything was organised, they refueled their ammunition, and then headed out to the secret entrance to the sewage tunnels.

Dantooine was almost as barren as Tattooine. The only different being that instead of being covered in sand and littered with dunes, it was made entirely of thick, dry, compacted earth and rocky hills. The entrance was located within one of these massive boulders, which Anakin quickly sliced an opening through with his lightsaber, Ahsoka assisting.

It reeked something awful. Obviously, those sewage tunnels had been abandoned centuries ago, for the air was thin and stale, stinking of mould and decaying faeces. Coughing at the horrific stench, Anakin raised his hand to cover his nose and ignited his lightsaber with the other hand, illuminating the cavern with a pale, blue light.

Rex pointed towards the opening, a safety hatch that had been used for excess flow during times of drought, he explained, and Anakin sliced through the padlock, opening the hatch. The stench was even worse and beside him, Ahsoka swore roughly under her breath, coughing and spluttering. The Clones were unaffected by the stench, for their helmets protected them from such things. When Echo pointed that out, Ahsoka blew his helmet off with the Force, causing the Trooper to gasp and clutch at his face, falling to his knees to find his helmet.

Anakin smirked at his Padawan, who stood with her hip cocked, a fiercely smug expression lighting up her large, turquoise eyes. "How's that helmet working out for you?" she snapped, to which Echo replied with several expletives in her direction.

"Focus, Snips. We have a job to do."

She nodded her head solemnly, sneaking dirty looks at Echo, who had retrieved his helmet and quickly put it over his head, holding onto it tightly. "Sorry, Master. I didn't want them to miss out on all the fun."

Shaking his head at his Padawan's feisty nature, Anakin closed his eyes and reached out with the Force, searching for lifeforms. The tunnels were empty. Satisfied, he then jumped down the hatch, landing gracefully on his feet, crouching low, then signalled for his men to follow. They dropped down beside him, and then split up into their separate groups.

"Keep an eye out for any unwanted visitors, buddy," Anakin told Artoo, who bleeped in response, lights flashing.

Once they reached the access point, Anakin checked in with Ahsoka.

" _We've got the bombs in place, Master,"_ she informed him.

"Good. We're going in. Await my signal."

" _Yes, Master."_

Following the map of the base, and with an assurance from Artoo that all was clear, Anakin reached up with his lightsaber and cut a hole in the ceiling, then leapt upwards, landing just in front of the hole. The hangar was completely deserted, save for two Starfighters. Anakin made a note to remember those once he'd found Obi-wan.

Artoo hacked into the control system, unlocking the doors, and Anakin and his men sprinted through the corridors to find the nearest elevator. It was unnervingly empty, Anakin noted, as they pass room after room without running into a single guard. Rex said the entire compound was heavily guarded, and yet they'd yet to see even a single droid. It didn't make any sense, but Anakin couldn't focus on that. He had to find Obi-Wan, get him and his men out of there, and then Ahsoka could destroy the entire building.

Following Artoo's directions, they managed to find Obi-Wan imprisoned inside a tiny, rectangular cell, his hands bound together above his head with a set of handcuffs emitting an electric field, stopping his Force abilities. He looked up as Anakin slashed open the door, a wry smile on his face.

"Ah, nice to see you finally show up, Anakin."

Anakin smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. "Why is it always up to me to save you, Master?" he quipped.

"Quit the attitude Anakin and just get me out of this," Obi-Wan sighed in exasperation.

Grinning, he did as was requested and set his former Master loose, who rubbed his wrists gingerly. "How did you get yourself captured, Master? And by _droids_ nonetheless."

With a deep scowl, Obi-Wan shook his head. "This was not the work of droids. General Grievous is on Dantooine."

The mention of _that name_ stopped Anakin in his tracks. _Grievous?_ When had he arrived? For the past few weeks Anakin and his men had been on Dantooine, it had simply been droids as their enemies. But the Cyborg was a completely different matter. He was highly trained, an excellent fighter and near impossible to defeat. The two of them had come face to face several times over the duration of the Clone Wars. Once particular time, he'd captured Padmé and almost killed her, and Anakin had risked a daring rescue plan to save her, only to have the Cyborg flee like a coward.

" _Grievous_ ," he hissed, spitting venom, his grip tightening on his lightsaber reflexively. He wanted nothing more than to slice that Cyborg scum into thousands of tiny pieces and use them as spare parts.

"Ah, Skywalker _and_ Kenobi. How lucky I must be," a raspy, metallic voice sneered from behind them.

Both Jedi turned immediately, to see General Grievous in the middle of the landing. He was a formidable beast; completely mechanical, his extra limbs holding two lightsabers, both ignited. A third was added, green, which Anakin realised was Obi-Wan's. Instantly going on the defensive, Anakin formed an aggressive stance, lightsaber at the ready. Around them, the Clone Troopers drew their weapons, ready to attack on their General's command, but a troop of droids entered the landing, complicating things. Anakin's jaw clenched tightly. Obi-Wan didn't have his lightsaber, and so he was going to have to fight the Droid General on his own.

 _Leave, Master,_ he told Obi-Wan through their bond. _I can handle this myself._

 _Don't be ridiculous, Anakin. I won't leave you._

 _Ahsoka has this whole place wired. Once I give the signal, it'll blow. You'll die if you don't leave._

Through their bond, he could feel his Master's stubborn refusal. _And what about you?_

Gritting his teeth, Anakin sighed. What was there to live for anymore? He didn't have Padmé to go back to, he didn't even have his own mother. At least, if he managed to snuff out Grievous while he could, regardless of his own life, it would be worth it. He would go down in history as the Hero With No Fear, the brave Jedi who saved the galaxy from the ruthless General Grievous. That was something, wasn't it? Perhaps, when she heard the news, Padmé would cry. Perhaps she would grieve, pouring out her love for him, the love he _knew_ she possessed. The thought filled him with a dull sense of satisfaction.

He could picture her weeping over his grave, trying to keep her composure, but she wouldn't be able to contain it. She'd break down, and he'd watch over her, watching her _mourning_ his death, regretting letting him slip through her fingers. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? For her to regret leaving him? She deserved it, after all she had done to him.

Of course, Ahsoka and Obi-Wan would be devastated. But they were Jedi, they would move on. They would have each other, after all.

 _I'm not going to leave you here to die, Anakin,_ Obi-Wan said firmly. _This isn't some stupid suicide mission for the sake of glory. That's not how it works._

 _This is the only way I can get rid of Grievous once and for all, Master. It's not a chance I'm going to pass up. Now, leave, or stay and die. It's up to you._

He looked at his Master then, saw his sad, miserable, sea-green eyes, and wondered if he was doing the right thing? He could _feel_ the remorse through their bond, and it made him question his actions. Was he being selfish? Was his revenge on Padmé really worth taking his own life, and hurting his Master, or his Padawan?

Suddenly, Grievous launched himself at him, swinging all three of his lightsabers, and Anakin barely had time to parry his blows. The Cyborg forced him backwards, backing him into a corner, as the droids and Clone Troopers began firing at each other all around him. Somehow, Obi-Wan had managed to free his lightsaber and began attacking Grievous from the side, momentarily distracting him, giving Anakin the opportunity to escape from the corner and gain some ground. The two of them worked in tandem, attacked from both sides simultaneously, giving the Cyborg no chance to recover.

 _Just like old times, Anakin. And you wanted to miss out on this?_

Anakin laughed at his Master's comment.

Just as they seemed to be taking the upper hand in the battle, the Cyborg lunged forward, both of his lightsabers spinning at a dramatic speed, and the two Jedi did their best to parry his blows. Then, with a sweep of the Force, he knocked them both to the ground, their lightsabers clattering away a few feet from them. With a victorious laugh, the General closed in, preparing for the final attack. Anakin and Obi-Wan shared a distressed look, and Obi-Wan nodded his head firmly.

Gritting his teeth, Anakin lifted his wrist to his lips and muttered, "Light her up, Snips."

Gripping each other's hands, Anakin and Obi-Wan retrieved their lightsabers with the Force, sliced open the wall to the cell and leapt out, just as the ground rumbled beneath them. The last thing they saw as they sailed to their feet was the base exploding in flames, a mushroomed cloud of smoke billowing up towards the sky, like a grey omen.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** I am back from hiatus! Yay! And with me I bring possibly the most 'scandalous' chapter yet (see what I did there? *hi-fives self for excellent pun*) But, I'm being serious. This story is titled "Scandal" for a reason. I hope you all forgive me for this, but I'm not expecting you to be very happy with me. Just, be comforted by the fact that this is all just part of the story, and _fiction_ as well. An AU :)

 **Republic Stronghold, Dantooine**

 **19 BBY**

Anakin awoke to see his Padawan leaning over him, her eyes wide in concern, as she dabbed a damp cloth to his forehead. He blearily blinked his eyes a few times, taking in his surroundings, focusing in on her face. Ahsoka was frowning, a deep scowl that made her look several years older than she was.

"This is not the welcome a man expects to receive after successfully completing a mission, Snips," he quipped, ignoring how weak and rough his voice sounded. What had happened? Why did his head pound so much? Where was Obi-Wan?

If anything, his Padawan's scowl only deepened. "It is when you almost kill yourself in the process," she snapped harshly, removing the cloth and crossing her legs beside him. "Rex and I had to pull you and Master Kenobi out of the rubble. You were barely conscious. You're lucky you survived."

Anakin grinned smugly. "But I _did_ survive. Which makes me a hero."

The Togruta merely rolled her large, turquoise eyes at him. "You're unbelievably arrogant, Master, did you know that?"

He didn't say anything, just closed his eyes at the feeling of Ahsoka wiping the sweat from his forehead. He was alive… and so was Obi-Wan, he assumed, and yet there was a part of him that was disappointed. Anakin hadn't wanted to survive the explosion… not _truly._ He'd wanted to die a heroic death, to leave this cruel galaxy, the one where Padmé was married to another man, behind him and live eternally as one with the Force. That was what he'd _planned._ Yet, it seemed even the Force itself enjoyed toying with him. Stringing him along only to leave him high and dry.

 _Just like she had._

"Why?"

Anakin's thoughts were interrupted by the soft voice of his Padawan, and he opened his eyes once more to see her staring at him. Her bottom lip was between her teeth and her eyes were wide and glistening with moisture. She looked as though she was about to cry, and that observation was disconcerting. Anakin couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Ahsoka cry. She was brave, strong… _fearless._ But now, here she was, looking every bit as vulnerable and innocent as she had the day he'd first met her, all those years ago.

"Why did you do it?" she asked again, her voice sharper, wounded. "You could have died."

With a heavy sigh, Anakin nodded his head solemnly. "I know."

Ahsoka scowled down at him. "Is that what you wanted?" she spat out at him. "Is that why you did it?" When he didn't answer, she narrowed her eyes at him and shook her head, regarding him with what resembled pity. "She's not worth it, Master."

"What are you talking about?"

" _Padmé…_ " Even the sound of her name stirred something deep within Anakin that he couldn't explain, all those strong feelings rushed back to the surface and almost suffocated him. "It's because of her, isn't it? That's why you did it. Because she left you."

"I left her," he interrupted immediately, feeling the need to make _that_ perfectly clear. It was _his_ choice to end things between them, it had been _him_ that had pushed her away.

The Togruta simply shrugged her shoulders and brushed aside his comment as though it meant nothing. "It doesn't matter," she remarked brusquely. "It's _over_ , Master. She's chosen her path. She's moved on. You need to as well."

 _Duty._ That was Padmé's path, the life she'd chosen to live. Anakin had always known, deep down, that she would always choose her duty over him. He'd known it for years, ever since he'd first met her. Only, he'd been reluctant to admit it… had clung to the tiniest scrap of hope that _maybe_ her love for him would shine through, would overpower everything else. Because, the Force only knew that his love for _her_ was greater than anything in the galaxy.

It had been foolish, naïve even, to entertain the idea of a life with her. It would never have worked. Anakin couldn't have given her the life she deserved. They'd never be free to live as a normal couple… their lives would be shrouded in secrecy and lies, and even if Anakin was alright with that, he knew that _she_ would never stand for it. Padmé was a better person than Anakin; she _deserved_ better.

He sighed deeply and closed his eyes. He was supposed to have died.

"I can help you," Ahsoka said softly, removing the cloth from his forehead and placing her hand on his cybernetic arm. Her long fingers rubbed small, gentle circles along the metal, and despite the fact that it was not real flesh, Anakin could still sense the deep affection that accompanied the action.

He opened his eyes once more and stared up at his Padawan in confusion.

"You're in pain, Master," Ahsoka continued with a small smile, as her other hand swept gently through his matted hair in a tender caress. It only left Anakin feeling more confused. It was an action that reminded him so clearly of Padmé… of how she would run her fingers through his hair as they lay together in the aftermath of their intensely passionate lovemaking…

Only, this wasn't Padmé. It was _Ahsoka._

"I'm fine, Snips," he countered quickly. "Really. I'll be up and about in no time."

With a shake of her head, the Togruta just smiled, her expression sombre. "That's not what I meant, Master. Not physical pain… _emotional_ pain. I can sense it. It's suffocating you."

He couldn't deny that it was true. Breaking things off with Padmé had crushed him, _ruined_ him and now he felt he had little to live for. What was a life without the woman he loved more than anything in the galaxy?

"It's been a month, Master," Ahsoka reminded him. "Yet all you've done is wallow in self-pity. It's _over._ You need to move on!"

Anakin glared at her, his blood boiling with sudden rage. "You think I haven't been fucking trying?" he roared at her, sitting up abruptly before wincing slightly in pain. The fall had caused him severe internal bleeding and some fractured ribs, and whilst he was a fast healer, it was bound to cause him some discomfort for several days. His Padawan clicked her tongue and pushed him back down to lay on the bed.

"No," she responded curtly. "You haven't. All you do is stay in your room and sulk. Or recklessly try to sacrifice yourself during battle without _any_ thought of how that might affect other people!"

It was then, Anakin noticed, that her eyes were moist with tears. He reached up with his mechanical hand to brush away a stray tear that rolled silently down her cheek, but she jerked away from him.

"Ahsoka…"

"How could you even _think_ to do that, Master?" she snapped, her tears running freely down her cheeks, her striped lekku bobbing up and down slightly as her entire body shook with emotion. "It's so _selfish!_ Did you even consider what it would do to Obi-wan if you'd died? What it would do to _me…?!"_

She broke off, voice choked by sobs, regaining her composure. Anakin was alarmed. He'd never seen her this worked up before. She looked so vulnerable, so distraught, so young in that moment, that he instantly regretted making her feel that way. If he was being honest, he _had_ been selfish. All he'd thought about was himself… he hadn't thought about Ahsoka, or Obi-wan. It hadn't even crossed his mind what would happen to them if he'd died. Obi-wan would have been okay, but Ahsoka…? She was entirely too much like _Anakin._ The loss would affect her deeply, she'd succumb to her emotions… It wasn't fair to do that to her, was it? She was his protégé after all, his Padawan. They had a bond unlike any other.

Again, he reached out with his mechanical arm and cupped her cheek, his thumb sliding gently across her prominent cheekbones. "I'm sorry, Ahsoka… I'm truly sorry."

She leaned unconsciously into his touch and blinked down at him with her round, turquoise eyes. A curious expression suddenly crossed her face, one that Anakin hadn't seen before.

"You need to forget about her, Master," she said wisely. "It's the only way you'll move on."

"I know."

"I can help you." The corners of her mouth twisted up into a wry, mischievous sort of smile that made Anakin wary.

"How?"

Pulling, she flipped her lekku's behind her shoulders and stood up, holding herself with pride. "Don't act like you haven't noticed, Master. I'm not a little girl anymore."

Surprised as he was by her suddenly boldness, he couldn't help but admit that she was right. Ahsoka was definitely _not_ a little girl. She held a woman's figure now – devoted as he was to Padmé, Anakin was unable to look past. Her face, hardened by battle, gave her this feline grace, a sort of exotic beauty that befit her race. Her body was lean, lithe, athletic; her waist trim and hips curved, her legs long and powerful, her breasts round and full. She was beautiful, _that_ he couldn't deny, but Anakin had never really seen her as more than his Padawan.

Until now. There she was, standing before him in her maroon tube top, short linen skirt and dark leggings, offering her body to him. The part of his brain that grew excited at the sight of a woman began to whisper sinful things to him, things he'd never _dreamt_ of thinking about his young Padawan.

"Ahsoka… what exactly are you suggesting?" he feigned ignorance, keeping his thoughts guarded. There was no way she was actually _offering_ herself to him like this? She couldn't be. It was wrong. They were Master and Padawan. She was only _seventeen_ , for kriff's sake!

Smirking, she put her hands on her hips and tipped her head to the side. "You know _exactly_ what I'm suggesting, Anakin."

He jolted at the use of his _first name._ She hardly ever called him by his name… it was usually _'Master'_ or _'Skyguy'_ if she felt like being annoying. "I don't think this is a good idea." A very bad idea.

"Why not?" she huffed stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're still hung up on Senator Amidala, and the only way you'll get over her is if you're with someone else! I thought maybe one of those Twi'lek escorts the clones have at their disposal might do, but I know what you're like, and you would feel more comfortable if it was someone you cared about… someone you trusted."

She finished her speech with a firm nod, looking incredibly proud of herself, as though she'd just come up with a brilliant plan to end the war, rather than an offer for sex. If it was any other situation, Anakin would have laughed. Instead, he shifted in the cot uncomfortably, unable to look his Padawan in the eye. A fierce blush rose to his cheeks and he suddenly felt like he was a virginal nineteen year old again.

"W-we can't," he reasoned. "It's _wrong_!"

"If you're worried about breaking the code, you've already done that," she quipped back, eyes twinkling.

"You're only _seventeen!_ You're still a child!" Anakin wasn't exactly sure who he was supposed to be convincing… Ahsoka or himself? She was right, in a sense… the only way to truly get over Padmé was to be with someone else. And it _had_ been a month since he'd last felt a woman's touch… _Padmé's touch._ But was that someone else meant to be his Padawan? Sure, she didn't look like a child, and the things she'd seen and done in the war had made her mature faster than any other girl her age. She was wise beyond her years, intelligent and brave. Didn't that counteract her physical age?

 _Why am I even considering this?_ He cursed himself internally. Surely there must be something wrong with him if he was actually considering having sex with his Padawan? There had to be. Why else would his body have reacted the way it currently was… for despite himself, his cock had begun to twitch in his pants at the mere thought… it _had_ been so _long_ … but it was just biological! It didn't mean he was actually attracted to Ahsoka… did it?

"Is that really what you think?" Her face fell a little, as though she was seeking his approval.

He hesitated. Anakin saw Ahsoka as his equal… whilst still a Padawan, she was able to hold her own in battle against formidable enemies, and he was certain she would soon become Knighted – he'd overheard Yoda and Windu discussing such matters. Despite her age, she definitely didn't _act_ like a child. But did that make it wrong?

"… No…" he finally admitted, with a shake of his head.

A broad smile broke out on her face and she sat back down beside him and rested her hand on his knee. "If you don't feel comfortable with it, we don't have to," she assured him. "I just want to help you, Master. I _know_ I can help you. You just have to let me."

When Anakin remained silent, she continued. "Master Securra once told me that it's good for people to release their emotions this way. Even Jedi. We spend so much time suppressing our feelings that sometimes they can consume us. I don't want you to be consumed, Master," she said softly. In that moment, his Padawan was as wise as Master Yoda himself, aged beyond her years. She didn't say it, but he heard it through the Force.

 _I don't want you to turn to the Dark Side._

She bent her head so her lips were at his ear and slid her hand up his leg to rest on his chest. "Let me help you, Anakin. Let me help you forget."

So Anakin twisted his head and pressed his lips to hers, getting lost in the feel of her young, lithe body, as all thoughts of Padmé vanished temporarily from his mind.

 _Don't worry, Little One. I won't._


End file.
